All Kinds of Wrong
by teratogen
Summary: "Somehow I've always suspected that Warrick is my son." Oh, sorry about the keyboard. G/S RST, NoPreg


Title: All Kinds of Wrong

Description: Humor/Parody, G/S RST, NoPreg

Rating: PG-13 for mature themes and sexual situations

Disclaimer: The characters created by Anthony Zuicker for the television program "CSI: Crime Scene Investigation" remain the property of CBS and Atlantis-Alliance. No profit is made from their use here and this story is for entertainment purposes only.

Author's Note: I have to get on my soapbox here and applaud adpi24 for bravely posting in the face of virtual slings and arrows.. I implore you, fellow denizens of the electronic aether - keep to the high road! We must tolerate those who are different, not flame them! Like that French guy said, I think his name was Voltage, anyway he wrote, "I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." ITA dude, except the death part.

In that spirit of freedom, I'm sure the author of "Truths" won't object to this little goof on the original.

Special Note for the Extremely Dense: IT'S A JOKE!

***************

"Ms. Willows? You have a visitor".

In the breakroom at CSI Headquarters, Catherine Willows was sitting at the table perusing a case file. She looked up in time to see Judy smile nervously and duck out of sight.

__

Who would come here at the start of Graveyard shift?, the criminalist wondered. She rose gracefully from her chair, automatically stretching her muscles as she did; a dancer's reflexes, after all these years.

"Baby, you know better than to do that around me. My poor old heart can't take it." 

Catherine froze. That voice...no, it couldn't be...well, it could, but _here_?

Two warm, powerful hands landed lightly on her shoulders, then slid down her arms. "But what a way to go, right?" The words sounded like smoke and velvet, and Catherine felt herself melt a little inside even as she was spun around to face - 

"Ben!" she gasped.

The tall dark-skinned man chuckled. "Nothing wrong with your mind, either", he teased. His smile faltered as he saw Catherine's expression change from delight to concern. "What?" Ben said softly, releasing her elbows. "I thought we were okay, but if ..."

"No, it's not that, it's great to see you again, - damn, you look good! - but why are you here? 

Ben sighed. "I found him, Cat. Our s-"

Catherine laid a finger over Ben's lips as three people came striding into the breakroom, stopping short at the sight of the pair. 

Catherine cleared her throat. "Uh, guys...This is Benjamin Stringfield. He's my...he's a friend. Ben, this is Gil Grissom, he's the night shift supervisor."

Grissom's expression was guarded, but he nodded politely.

"And this is Nick Stokes, and Sara Sidle. I'll catch up with you guys in a minute. Grissom, I need to borrow your office, thanks, come on Ben", Catherine babbled. She blew out of the room like a dust devil with Ben right behind her, leaving three puzzled co-workers in her wake.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Warrick Brown moved through the halls of CSI headquarters with his usual insouciant stride, oblivious to the longing looks and faint sighs behind his back. He was a bit late already but he hoped to catch Grissom in his office. Coming near, he saw the door hanging ever so slightly ajar (_ When are they going to fix that?, _he thought), and slowed to listen, not wanting to interrupt Griss in a meeting. Instead he heard Catherine Willows and a man he didn't know. His curiosity got the better of him.

* * * * * * * * * *

"I know we agreed not to interfere in the boy's life, but my kids are grown up and out of the house, and I just wanted to know how he turned out. I wasn't going to tell anyone else."

"But you're telling me now, so what's going on?" Catherine stood with her arms crossed, regarding her old flame.

Ben ran a hand through his thinning hair. "He was adopted by a family right here in Vegas." Catherine started, but didn't interrupt. "Went to school here, graduated college, got a job with the County." He paused to inhale deeply and said, "His name is..."

"Warrick Brown." Catherine finished. Her mouth hung open.

"You _knew_?!" 

"Not until right this minute, but, yes. Somehow I've always suspected that Warrick is my son."

"Why haven't you tried to find out for sure?"

"I just this year discovered who my biological father is. I don't want a gambling addict to find out his Grandpa owns a half dozen casinos."

"But how could you think he might be your son?"

" Well, he gets along so well with my daughter, Lindsey. It's like she knows he's her brother. And he's protective of me. Last year I was attacked at a crime scene and he went out of his way to give me a great big hug." Catherine smiled fondly, remembering. "You can't argue with evidence. I even overheard him call me his 'blonde mama'."

Ben looked over Catherine's shoulder. "Did you just hear someone screaming?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "It's CSI, someone's always carrying on in the halls."

* * * * * * * * * 

In the breakroom, Nick Stokes and Sara Sidle were alone for the moment. 

"How did your blind date go, Sara?" Nick inquired innocently.

Sara rolled her eyes. "If I wasn't a vegetarian I would have chewed off my own foot to escape."

Nick grinned. "Hang in there, Sara. Don't give up now or I'll have to call Hank out of retirement."

Sara made as if to throw her apple at Nick's head. "Not funny, Mister Stokes. Anyway it's too late." She lowered her voice before continuing, " I know you think Hank is dumber than a bag of hammers, but he was just starting to suspect..." 

She didn't get a chance to finish, because Warrick Brown erupted through the doorway.

"No! Ah, nooo!" he wailed, collapsing into a chair.

Sara and Nick had leapt to their feet when he entered; now they stared at their co-worker in total shock. Warrick, the calm one, their team's steady center, was facedown on the table with his head in his arms, crying. 

Sara and Nick sat down on either side of him. "Hey, man," Nick began tentatively.

"Warrick, just tell us what happened," Sara ventured.

"I knew I was adopted, but I never..." Warrick eventually choked out. "I overheard Catherine, I didn't mean to, she was talking to this guy. They had a baby and gave it up, and now they know, it's..." He gasped for air. "It's me, their baby was me, Catherine's my mom!"

A long minute passed while Warrick struggled for composure.

Nick found his voice at last. "Catherine Willows had a baby out of wedlock? There's a shocker."

"A 'baby' who's thirty-something." Sara said archly. " Knew she lied about her age."

"Don't you get it?" cried Warrick angrily, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I've had the hots for her all along, and she's my _mother_! What does that make me? Man, that's _incest_!"

The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He felt both Sara and Nick stiffen with indignation.

"Oh hey," Warrick said quickly, "I didn't mean anything by it, guys. I'm not saying you're...I'd never tell..."

Sara smiled to reassure him. "It's okay, Warrick. We know what you meant."

"Yeah, War, no offence taken. I kinda agree with you on this one. I mean, mother and son? That's just - ew," Nick laughed. "Right, little sister?"

"Don't you 'little sister' me, Nicky," Sara replied hotly, but her eyes twinkled. "May I remind you I'm fifteen minutes older than you?"

Nick came to stand behind Sara. "Older, younger, doesn't matter to me. What's important is that I've found my long-lost twin, and they'll never keep us apart again." He leaned over her, and Sara tilted her face up to meet his.

They were so enraptured by the kiss that they didn't notice when Gil Grissom fled the room in horror.

* * * * * * * *

Grissom ran through the secret underground tunnel to Homicide and flung open the door to Jim Brass's office.

"Brass! Oh my God, it's awful!" he shouted, bursting into tears.

Jim pulled him into a firm embrace. He ruffled Gil's hair to calm him.

"There, there," he said gruffly. "It's all right, son."

* * * * * * * * 

* * * * * * * *

"_AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHrrrghh_!!!" Grissom screamed and sat bolt upright in bed. He stared around the darkened bedroom, feeling his heart race.

"Gil! What is it?"

The fear ebbed, and Grissom reached out to stroke his lover's shoulder. "Just a nightmare," he confessed, embarrassed to have been so exposed. By the tiny bit of daylight that got past the shutters, he could see her smile.

"I warned you not to eat that steak right before bed. Meat is nothing but trouble."

Grissom flopped back down, supine. "You call yourself a vegetarian, but I know your secret, Ms. Sidle. You're a big hypocrite."

"What?"

"I know for a fact that not six hours ago, you injested a significant amount of animal protein."

Sara gaped at him, momentarily flabbergasted, then narrowed her eyes. "I'll show you what I can swallow," she retorted, ducking beneath the sheets.

For the second time that day, Gil Grissom screamed. But it was a good scream.

THE END


End file.
